


aloha kākou

by leighgasm



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighgasm/pseuds/leighgasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was just thinking,” she says slowly, in that way that says her words are being carefully chosen, “that you talk about Danny an awful lot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing fic. Consider this wildly AU past 6x07; it's no doubt going to be sunk as soon as Lynn shows up again.
> 
> Thanks a billion times over to [klutzy34](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy34) for hand-holding me through this.

_We need to talk._

Steve has seen a lot and done even more, but those four words — especially in the confines of a relationship — still manage to shake him to his core.

_Tonight_ , he’d said back, trying to play it cool. _I’ll bring malasadas._

Talking can mean a lot of things. Eight months in, he knows they’re rapidly reaching the point where all the cards get laid out: future expectations, where they see themselves a year or two down the line. Talking doesn’t _have_ to mean _ending._ He thinks the answering smiley-face means it’s the former more than the latter.

That’s reassuring.

It doesn’t stop those four words from rattling around in his head all day, clicking together like little stones that seem to weigh heavier and heavier as the hours drag on without even a case to break it up. It’s almost like Hawaii’s criminals know he could use the distraction, something to keep his thoughts from running circular in a way he doesn’t like, and aren’t willing to oblige.

By the time Chin shoos him out the door, he’s almost grateful to escape the office, the pile of paperwork that he’s barely managed to make a dent in with his mind so firmly elsewhere.

The drive from the office to Lynn’s apartment passes in a familiar blur, broken up only by the brief stop at Leonard’s (where, Steve admits, he spends far too long agonizing over the rather simple menu, wondering if chocolate or lilikoi is more appropriate for what might end up being a break-up conversation). By the time he makes it to her door, he’s white-knuckled and shoving his emotions down.

It’s inevitable, really. People leave. He’s pretty sure he should have seen it coming. He just has to grin and bear it. He should be used to that.

But when the door opens, Lynn is smiling, a crooked slant at the corner of her mouth — that familiar expression he’s come to learn is reserved for him and him alone. It eases something in his chest when she steps forward, looping her arm around his neck to pull him down for a kiss: quick, chaste, but no less happy to see him, and no less full of promise for later. Her lips taste like coconut, and he finds himself subconsciously following when she breaks away.

She laughs and taps him on the nose with a finger, then relieves him of the box of malasadas, setting it carefully on the table by the door before she leads him into the apartment.

It’s small like Lynn herself, eclectic. _Interesting._ The furniture is haphazardly picked: a plush arm-chair with a gaudy floral pattern that, despite its appearance is like sinking into a marshmallow, a small wicker bench loaded with thick pillows, a sofa that is faded from use but all the more comfortable for it, its cushions patched and mended. It had been her parents’, he’d learned. _I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out,_ she had said, and it was something he had understood. The tables are full: candles on one, pretty stones and seashells on another, cards and drawings spread out and pinned up on every available surface. A surfboard sits next to roller skates, tucked behind a bicycle near the lanai. The bookshelves bend under the weight of too many books: travel guides, textbooks and references, mysteries and romance, all in an order that only Lynn understands.

It’s a space that should feel cluttered, should needle at Steve’s need for organization, but it’s one that feels warm and comfortable. Comforting.

She disappears into the kitchen while he sits; when she returns, it’s with a pair of Longboards. Steve takes his gratefully, the first long drink making her laugh again as she settles beside him, happily invading his space.

He asks about her day, grateful when she takes the prompt. “One of my kids just got his first college acceptance,” she tells him, no small measure of pride in her voice. ( _They’re all my kids_ , she’d told him once, and he’s seen the size of her heart first-hand: how it swells with pride when one of them beats the odds, how it crushes her when one of them fails. He’s stood beside her at two funerals since they’ve met, held her close while she grieved the ones that were beyond her help and watched it fan the fire of resolve not to have to do it again, not for one of _her_ kids.)

When she turns the question back on him, Steve actually has to think. Paperwork, while true, is hardly an enthralling tale. What he settles on, after a quick drink, is Danny’s rant of the day. His hand windmills as he talks, gesturing in an approximation of his partner. He even drops his voice into an impression of Danny’s Jersey drawl as he tells her about tourists. Tourists taking over the parking lot at work, tourists paying no mind to crosswalks or traffic signals, tourists with more money than brains who like to make their jobs so much more difficult by sheer virtue of existing.

“I thought that vein on his forehead was going to pop,” Steve says, though it ends on an uncertain note as he catches sight of the look on Lynn’s face.

It’s contemplative, like she’s puzzling through the secrets of the universe, and Steve finds himself awkwardly rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “What?”

Her mouth presses into a line as she looks at him. The way her head cocks to the side sends her hair tumbling over her shoulders. Steve makes as if to reach out, then curls his fingers back. No touching.

“I was just thinking,” she says slowly, in that way that says her words are being carefully chosen, “that you talk about Danny an awful lot.”

“Well, yeah.” Steve’s confusion is clear. Maybe even a little defensive. “He’s my partner. We spend all day together.”

“And most of your free time,” Lynn replies. Her beer is balanced between her knees; her hands come up in a placating gesture. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she elaborates at his silence, her hands dropping into her lap.

“He’s my best friend,” Steve points out, perhaps more sharply than he intends, as he sinks back into the couch — away from her, away from the conversation.

Lynn only presses forward, her lips briefly pursing before she shakes her head. “I’m not trying to get between you two, I swear,” she starts. “I just…” The pause comes with a huff of quiet laughter and another shake of her head before she fixes him with a look, one Steve wants to hide from.

“I don’t know how to ask, so I’m just going to say it: do you have feelings for him?” The question is quiet, hanging between them.

The only answer for several long moments is silence.

“He’s my best friend,” Steve repeats finally. By the look on her face, he knows she’s waiting for more, and he fumbles through several options before coming up with a weak, “I’m not gay.”

It’s true as much as it’s not. He likes women more than he likes men, but he doesn’t give voice to that thought. As it turns out, he doesn’t really need to, because she’s shaking her head and giving him that small smile that she wears when he’s skipped over something that seems crystal clear to her.

“Last weekend, when you stayed over? You said his name in your sleep,” she says, reaching out to settle a hand on his knee. It’s warm and reassuring, and he finds himself returning the gesture.

“I warned you I talk in my sleep sometimes,” Steve protests, only to be cut off by a quick shake of her head.

“There’s talking, then there’s… Well, there’s _that_. It felt like I was witnessing something I shouldn’t have been. Something intimate,” Lynn admits, her words soft.

“It doesn’t _mean_ anything. I’m with _you_ ,” Steve replies, dropping both hands to cover hers for a squeeze. “You and me, we’re solid. Danny and me, we’re friends. That’s the way it should be. That’s the way it _is_ ,” he insists.

The silence, the slight shake of her head, tells him she believes it about as much as he does. He cares about Lynn, that much is true. She’s fit herself into his life in a way that he adores and respects — maybe even loves, though after being burnt so badly, he finds that word is one he shies away from. It’s easy to picture a future with her, something he wouldn’t have thought possible a year before. But she isn’t wrong, either. He loves Danny, too.

She breathes a sigh as she leans in; his arm immediately wraps around her shoulders, holding her close.

“I care about you. A lot,” Lynn says slowly, her eyes half-closed as she makes herself comfortable, her leg thrown across his knees. “I just want you to be happy. And… I don’t think that’s something I can do, not on my own.”

“I _am_ happy,” Steve says, frowning down at her. She’s dancing on the edge of a solution, he can see that, but the idea that she’s working her way up to the break-up he feared is one that makes him swallow hard and look away.

Lynn gives a tiny shake of her head. “I see how you look at Danny when he isn’t paying attention.” The pause after is weighted, considering. “I also see how he looks at you when you’re not. There’s something there, you know,” she murmurs, hesitating, before she lays it all out: “And I think you’d both be foolish to keep sweeping it under the rug.”

Steve falls silent, the only sound for several long moments the slow inhale and exhale of air from his lungs. “Do you want to break up?” he asks finally, aware that it sounds childish and not caring.

“ _What_?” Lynn sounds as startled as she looks, her brow furrowed in confusion as she pulls away. She raises a hand to touch his cheek before she shakes her head. “ _No_. That isn’t what I was saying at all. I’m saying… I’m saying maybe an option exists where you don’t have to make a choice.”

The baffled look that settles on his face only makes her smile. She leans up to kiss him — gentle, chaste — before reaching for her beer. “I like Danny,” she elaborates after a sip. “He’s smart, he’s funny. He keeps you in line sometimes.” There’s a hint of teasing to her tone, one that makes Steve duck his head. Lynn’s never told him to rein it in, but that doesn’t mean she holds her tongue when he comes home beaten all to hell. The smirk that follows is downright wicked. “And I’m betting he’s mouthier than you are.”

Steve knows she’s looking for a reaction. It doesn’t stop him from sputtering, coughing around the bottle, or the sudden flash of an idea, the mental picture that thought conjures up making his pants a little tighter: Lynn sprawled out between the two of them, her knees locked tight around Danny’s head to hold him in place. Her fingers raking through his hair, standing it up in a hundred different directions. Her back arched as he finds the exact right spot to send her spiraling.

“You. Uh. You would… That’s something that interests you?” Steve asks once he’s cleared his throat and taken a deep breath.

“Well… yeah.” Her nose wrinkles slightly, a playful expression, as she peers up at him. “Like I said, I care about you. Your happiness is important to me. The quickest way to be miserable is to deny something so much that it passes you by. You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering, and I don’t ever want you to resent me for keeping you two apart. I’m a little selfish like that,” she says, dropping her voice low as if she’s sharing a secret.

He takes another deep breath and finds his thoughts turning toward the possibilities. Not just sex — sex for its own sake has never interested him — but building a _life_. Falling into bed with the two of them after a rough day. Having two people to wake up to. Trading jokes and lazy kisses while they’re falling asleep.

The idea is appealing in a way he hasn’t considered before and he finds himself smiling. “That’s really something you’d want to do?” he asks again, wanting to be sure.

Her only response is to lean up and kiss him, her fingers tangling in his short hair.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s more than a week before they can do anything about it. Five-0 catches a case — a serial murderer, five bodies in three days — that takes their full focus. There’s barely time to breathe, much less talk about anything personal. Winding down and decompressing means the entire team invades Steve’s house for beer and barbeque, a routine that has become almost ritual in the aftermath of a bad case.

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon when Kono and Adam call it a night. Grover and Chin stick around long enough to help migrate the worst of the mess into the kitchen. Grace and Charlie are with Rachel this weekend; it means, soon enough, it’s only Lynn and Danny left.

They tackle the dishes while Steve handles the trash. When Steve cuts in, Lynn leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before disappearing upstairs. “Just a quick shower,” she says as she leaves the two men in the kitchen.

The silence that settles around them is a comfortable one, one that Steve wants to soak up for as long as possible. They never know when another crisis is going to happen; in that respect, the silence is a blessing.

“Lynn had an interesting theory the other night,” Steve says as he dries the last of the dishes. He risks a glance over at Danny, meeting the curious look head-on.

“That you’re insane? Because that, my friend, isn’t a theory. It’s a proven fact,” Danny replies. There’s an edge to it that he hadn’t noticed before Lynn said something, but now Steve thinks maybe it’s jealousy that gives Danny’s remarks a bit of a bite. At least, whenever Lynn comes up in conversation.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then hesitates. He’s never been very good at navigating emotional waters; where there’s so much to lose is much more complicated than he would like. He counts backwards from five, takes a deep breath, then spits it out: “She thinks you have feelings for me.”

He knows instantly by the way Danny’s spine straightens and the way he flicks his gaze away for just a fraction of a second that Lynn hit the mark.

“Excuse me? I have _feelings_ for you? I have plenty of feelings for you. Frustration. Annoyance. Embarrassment, I have such second-hand embarrassment for you that it isn’t funny. Exhaustion. Stressed. You single-handedly make me want to seek therapy for the levels of stress, okay, my blood-pressure can’t tak–”

It’s impulsive, really, the way Steve swoops in. One moment, they’re side-by-side; the next, he has Danny spun around with his back to the counter. The kitchen falls into silence as Steve ducks his head, sealing his mouth to his partner’s before he can think to stop himself.

Danny struggles for only a moment before he leans into it with an exhale. His hands flutter uselessly for a few seconds, then he’s holding tight — and more than that, he’s kissing Steve back, raising onto his toes to meet the taller man half-way.

Steve’s working at the buttons on Danny’s shirt when Danny seems to come to his senses, breaking the kiss with a sharp exhale and a firm shove that sends Steve stumbling a half-step backwards.

“You _asshole_. You complete and– What were you thinking, huh?! Your girlfriend–”

“Is kind of enjoying the show,” Lynn interjects smoothly, taking that moment to announce her presence.

Danny’s shoulders square, both hands coming up as if he intends to apologize — or maybe take a swing at Steve, who steps easily to the side — but the smile on her face, the sight of her in nothing but a borrowed tee-shirt, her hair damp and hanging over her shoulders, stops him in his tracks.

“I. You. What?”

There’s something vaguely predatory in the way Lynn seems to glide forward, bare feet whispering across the old wood floors. Danny swallows hard, risking a glance back at Steve, only to find him wearing a matching smile. “We’re trying to seduce you,” Steve points out, though there’s something hesitant in it, vulnerable, that makes Danny swing his gaze back to Lynn.

“ _Why?_ ” It’s out of Danny’s mouth before he can stop himself.

Lynn’s answering laugh is soft, amused. She’s close enough to touch now, though her hands stay by her sides. “Because Steve, emotionally constipated man that he is, let it slip that he kind of likes you,” she says, brows raising in indication. (The light scoff behind Danny’s shoulder is only a touch offended.) “He likes you, I like him, and I’m pretty sure I could like you, given half a chance,” she elaborates, code. ‘Like’ is so much less complicated than ‘love’. Less terrifying, too, but she trusts her instincts and there’s something about Danny that makes her want to hold him close. It isn’t romantic, not yet — but the potential is there.

For once in his life, Danny is struck speechless, helplessly looking back and forth between the two of them. It’s a joke, he’s sure it’s a joke, but the way Steve steps into him a moment later, his hands settling lightly on his shoulders, makes him swallow that objection.

“Stay the night,” Steve says, his voice low. “If it goes badly, we’ll pretend it never happened. But if it doesn’t…” There’s a promise hidden in the words, one he can’t quite articulate. Not yet. “I want this. She wants this. What do you want?”


	3. Chapter 3

The path from kitchen to bedroom is littered with clothes: Danny’s shirt falls first, then Steve’s. A pair of cargo shorts on the stairs, Danny’s jeans in front of the bedroom door. Lynn and Steve never stop moving, their hands skimming across expanses of revealed skin in a way that Danny is almost certain was choreographed. He doesn’t have time to think, only to react.

It’s less than graceful, the way the three of them tumble into bed a tangle of limbs. It isn’t surprising at all that Steve takes the lead, pressing him down into the mattress and his mouth firm against Danny’s as he wastes no time in divesting the shorter man of what little clothing remains. It’s mere moments before the scrap of fabric hits the floor and Steve doesn’t hesitate to wrap a calloused palm around Danny’s cock. The stroke that follows is loose, the angle all wrong, but it doesn’t stop Danny from bucking his hips up into the touch.

All too soon, Steve’s retreating. Danny lets out a whimper of protest, but Steve’s fingers are quickly replaced by Lynn’s smaller, more delicate hands. She deftly rolls a condom over him (and seriously, where did that even come from?), then Steve’s moving aside, and Lynn’s straddling his hips.

He rocks up to meet her as she sinks down onto him, enveloping him in warm, wet heat. He swallows a sharp breath, the edge of a moan that’s lost as Steve claims his lips again. Between the way Lynn rocks against him and the fingers trailing over his skin — Lynn’s, Steve’s, Danny completely loses track of who is where — it doesn’t take long before his hips are stuttering up, his fingers tight enough against Lynn’s hips that he’s almost certain there will be bruises later.

There’s a flush of red across his cheeks — embarrassment, no doubt — but Lynn leans forward, peppering his shoulder with gentle kisses.

“We’ve got all night,” Steve says, reassuring, as he runs a hand along Danny’s side. It slides down, fingertips walking along the inside of Lynn’s thigh, then up to delve between her legs. Danny’s still buried in her, still half-hard, and the resulting twitch of her hips is enough to make him curse.

It’s also the only incentive Steve needs to keep going: his thumb finds her clit with expert accuracy, rubbing circles over the tiny nub as he slides a finger along the edge of her slit. Her breath comes in tiny gasps and pants, sounds she tries her hardest to muffle against Danny’s skin. She’s close, on the edge; Steve leans in to nip at her shoulder, soothing the spot a moment later with a swipe of his tongue, and that’s all it takes to send her keening over.

Her muscles are loose, pliant, as Danny eases her onto her back. He doesn’t hesitate to move over her, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her head as he ducks his head to kiss her. It’s surprisingly chaste — at least until he catches her lip between his teeth.

Lynn rakes her nails down his back, leaving faint pink marks in their wake, then Danny’s moving, kissing his way slowly lower. He nips at her breast, laying teeth briefly to skin before he’s moving on, down over her ribs. The day’s stubble scrapes over her stomach, earning a quiet huff of laughter — one that’s swallowed back as his tongue finds her clit.

Lynn’s never been the most vocal; it’s always a challenge for Steve, really, trying to coax those quiet whimpers and sighs out of her, and it’s one Danny takes to immediately. He swirls his tongue over heated flesh, slides a knuckle between her folds. Her back arches, her breath coming in quick, short gasps as her fingers tangle in Danny’s blond hair.

The bed dips and Steve’s hovering over Danny, nudging his legs apart so that he can settle. He leans forward and presses a kiss against Danny’s shoulder as he settles his palms on his hips. They don’t stop there — they roam over his back, along his sides, as much as Steve can reach with Danny sprawled on his stomach the way he is.

Steve takes his time exploring the plains and valleys of Danny’s body: the way his waist tapers, the tiny dip in the small of his back, the firm, rounded ass that Steve has indulged in far too many fantasies about. He can’t resist rocking forward a little, sliding his achingly hard cock between Danny’s cheeks.

What surprises him isn’t the somewhat startled motion under him; it’s the way Danny presses back, letting loose with a low, needy sound — one that earns a delighted moan from Lynn as the vibrations hit her clit.

That’s all the encouragement Steve needs. Pulling away comes with a sound of protest, but he’s back as quick as he’s gone, a bottle of lube in one hand. He’s eager but his hands are steady as he smooths it across himself, then turns his attention to Danny’s hole. One finger, then two, carefully slip past the ring of muscle.

Danny raises up, angling his hips, and not for the first time, Steve wonders if Danny hasn’t done something similar before. That, however, is a question for later; Steve’s self-control isn’t limitless, and with Danny moving against his hand like that...

He adds a little more lube, then deems it good enough. Raising onto his knees, Steve finds the right angle, then he’s moving, stuttering his hips forward. His teeth catch his lower lip as he works for it, carefully walking that line between driving himself crazy and going too quick.

Lynn catches his eye over Danny’s shoulder, her expression blissed out, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide, and that damn near does Steve in.

Danny doesn’t help matters, not when he seems to tire of the agonizingly slow pace and rocks his hips backwards, driving Steve the rest of the way home.

The evening slips away: the soft slap of skin against skin, soft moans and Danny’s half-grunted words of encouragement. As it turns out, Danny is a talker through and through and keeping his mouth occupied doesn’t guarantee he won’t make himself known.

When they collapse, it’s in a tangled heap of limbs, skin sticky with sweat. One by one, they excuse themselves to take turns getting cleaned up, carefully extracting themselves from the pile.

Danny takes his turn last. He splashes water on his face, tries to smooth his hair into something resembling order (the hair wins that fight), then spends far too long staring into the mirror and quietly debating whether to grab his things and get gone.

Because it’s one thing to sleep with a coworker. It’s another thing entirely to invite yourself into their lives. The sex, that can be blamed on one too many beers (a pretty lie when they’re all stone-cold sober, but one he’s confident none of them will argue when it all inevitably gets swept under the rug). He’s not sure the same can be said for sleeping over.

Mind made up, Danny retreats back into the bedroom. He makes it as far as finding his boxers hanging off the edge of the dresser when Steve raises his head, blinking into the dimness of the room.

“Was beginning to think you left,” Steve says, his voice already roughed from the edge of sleep.

Danny holds up his boxers helplessly. “I, uh—”

“You’re thinking too much,” Steve replies gently, holding out a hand. It hovers in the space between them for several beats before Danny drops his shorts again and pads his way over to the bed. It’s not until he’s stretched out and Steve has slid an arm under his shoulder to pull him close that he lets out a breath and begins to relax.

The lips that brush across his temple help a little more, as does the way Lynn’s arm snakes over Steve’s waist to rest lightly on Danny’s chest. She’s not awake, not fully; it’s pure instinct.

Danny allows himself a small smile as he shifts onto his side, his hand slipping underneath Lynn’s to squeeze her fingers before he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Danny manages to sleep entirely through the night.


End file.
